honorine-第20章

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way　from　my　own　house　to　the　Rue　Saint…Maur　thoughts　of　love　had
swelled　in　my　heart；　and　I　had　said　to　myself；　like　a　young　man；　〃This
evening　she　will　yield。〃

〃　'All　my　real　or　affected　force　was　blown　to　the　winds　by　a　smile；　by
a　command　from　those　proud；　calm　eyes；　untouched　by　passion。　I
remembered　the　terrible　words　you　once　quoted　to　me；　〃Lucretia's
dagger　wrote　in　letters　of　blood　the　watchword　of　woman's　charter
Liberty！〃　and　they　froze　me。　I　felt　imperatively　how　necessary　to　me
was　Honorine's　consent；　and　how　impossible　it　was　to　wring　it　from
her。　Could　she　guess　the　storms　that　distracted　me　when　I　left　as　when
I　came？

〃　'At　last　I　painted　my　situation　in　a　letter　to　her；　giving　up　the
attempt　to　speak　of　it。　Honorine　made　no　answer；　and　she　was　so　sad
that　I　made　as　though　I　had　not　written。　I　was　deeply　grieved　by　the
idea　that　I　could　have　distressed　her；　she　read　my　heart　and　forgave
me。　And　this　was　how。　Three　days　ago　she　received　me；　for　the　first
time；　in　her　own　blue…and…white　room。　It　was　bright　with　flowers；
dressed；　and　lighted　up。　Honorine　was　in　a　dress　that　made　her
bewitching。　Her　hair　framed　that　face　that　you　know　in　its　light
curls；　and　in　it　were　some　sprays　of　Cape　heath；　she　wore　a　white
muslin　gown；　a　white　sash　with　long　floating　ends。　You　know　what　she
is　in　such　simplicity；　but　that　day　she　was　a　bride；　the　Honorine　of
long　past　days。　My　joy　was　chilled　at　once；　for　her　face　was　terribly
grave；　there　were　fires　beneath　the　ice。

〃　'　〃Octave；〃　she　said；　〃I　will　return　as　your　wife　when　you　will。　But
understand　clearly　that　this　submission　has　its　dangers。　I　can　be
resigned〃

〃　'I　made　a　movement。

〃　'　〃Yes；〃　she　went　on；　〃I　understand：　resignation　offends　you；　and
you　want　what　I　cannot　giveLove。　Religion　and　pity　led　me　to
renounce　my　vow　of　solitude；　you　are　here！〃　She　paused。

〃　'　〃At　first；〃　she　went　on；　〃you　asked　no　more。　Now　you　demand　your
wife。　Well；　here　I　give　you　Honorine；　such　as　she　is；　without
deceiving　you　as　to　what　she　will　be。What　shall　I　be？　A　mother？　I
hope　it。　Believe　me；　I　hope　it　eagerly。　Try　to　change　me；　you　have　my
consent；　but　if　I　should　die；　my　dear；　do　not　curse　my　memory；　and　do
not　set　down　to　obstinacy　what　I　should　call　the　worship　of　the　Ideal；
if　it　were　not　more　natural　to　call　the　indefinable　feeling　which　must
kill　me　the　worship　of　the　Divine！　The　future　will　be　nothing　to　me；
it　will　be　your　concern；　consult　your　own　mind。〃

〃　'And　she　sat　down　in　the　calm　attitude　you　used　to　admire；　and
watched　me　turning　pale　with　the　pain　she　had　inflicted。　My　blood　ran
cold。　On　seeing　the　effect　of　her　words　she　took　both　my　hands；　and；
holding　them　in　her　own；　she　said：

〃　'　〃Octave；　I　do　love　you；　but　not　in　the　way　you　wish　to　be　loved。　I
love　your　soul。　。　。　。　Still；　understand　that　I　love　you　enough　to　die
in　your　service　like　an　Eastern　slave；　and　without　a　regret。　It　will
be　my　expiation。〃

〃　'She　did　more；　she　knelt　before　me　on　a　cushion；　and　in　a　spirit　of
sublime　charity　she　said：

〃　'　〃And　perhaps　I　shall　not　die！〃

〃　'For　two　months　now　I　have　been　struggling　with　myself。　What　shall　I
do？　My　heart　is　too　full；　I　therefore　seek　a　friend；　and　send　out　this
cry；　〃What　shall　I　do？〃　'

〃I　did　not　answer　this　letter。　Two　months　later　the　newspapers
announced　the　return　on　board　an　English　vessel　of　the　Comtesse
Octave；　restored　to　her　family　after　adventures　by　land　and　sea；
invented　with　sufficient　probability　to　arouse　no　contradiction。

〃When　I　moved　to　Genoa　I　received　a　formal　announcement　of　the　happy
event　of　the　birth　of　a　son　to　the　Count　and　Countess。　I　held　that
letter　in　my　hand　for　two　hours；　sitting　on　this　terraceon　this
bench。　Two　months　after；　urged　by　Octave；　by　M。　de　Grandville；　and
Monsieur　de　Serizy；　my　kind　friends；　and　broken　by　the　death　of　my
uncle；　I　agreed　to　take　a　wife。

〃Six　months　after　the　revolution　of　July　I　received　this　letter；　which
concludes　the　story　of　this　couple：

〃　'MONSIEUR　MAURICE；I　am　dying　though　I　am　a　motherperhaps　because
I　am　a　mother。　I　have　played　my　part　as　a　wife　well；　I　have　deceived
my　husband。　I　have　had　happiness　not　less　genuine　than　the　tears　shed
by　actresses　on　the　stage。　I　am　dying　for　society；　for　the　family；　for
marriage；　as　the　early　Christians　died　for　God！　I　know　not　of　what　I
am　dying；　and　I　am　honestly　trying　to　find　out；　for　I　am　not　perverse；
but　I　am　bent　on　explaining　my　malady　to　youyou　who　brought　that
heavenly　physician　your　uncle；　at　whose　word　I　surrendered。　He　was　my
director；　I　nursed　him　in　his　last　illness；　and　he　showed　me　the　way
to　heaven；　bidding　me　persevere　in　my　duty。

〃　'And　I　have　done　my　duty。

〃　'I　do　not　blame　those　who　forget。　I　admire　them　as　strong　and
necessary　natures；　but　I　have　the　malady　of　memory！　I　have　not　been
able　twice　to　feel　that　love　of　the　heart　which　identifies　a　woman
with　the　man　she　loves。　To　the　last　moment；　as　you　know；　I　cried　to
your　heart；　in　the　confessional；　and　to　my　husband；　〃Have　mercy！〃　But
there　was　no　mercy。　Well；　and　I　am　dying；　dying　with　stupendous
courage。　No　courtesan　was　ever　more　gay　than　I。　My　poor　Octave　is
happy；　I　let　his　love　feed　on　the　illusions　of　my　heart。　I　throw　all
my　powers　into　this　terrible　masquerade；　the　actress　is　applauded；
feasted；　smothered　in　flowers；　but　the　invisible　rival　comes　every　day
to　seek　its　preya　fragment　of　my　life。　I　am　rent　and　I　smile。　I
smile　on　two　children；　but　it　is　the　elder；　the　dead　one；　that　will
triumph！　I　told　you　so　before。　The　dead　child　calls　me；　and　I　am　going
to　him。

〃　'The　intimacy　of　marriage　without　love　is　a　position　in　which　my
soul　feels　degraded　every　hour。　I　can　never　weep　or　give　myself　up　to
dreams　but　when　I　am　alone。　The　exigencies　of　society；　the　care　of　my
child；　and　that　of　Octave's　happiness　never　leave　me　a　moment　to
refresh　myself；　to　renew　my　strength；　as　I　could　in　my　solitude。　The
incessant　need　for　watchfulness　startles　my　heart　with　constant
alarms。　I　have　not　succeeded　in　implanting　in　my　soul　the　sharp…eared
vigilance　that　lies　with　facility；　and　has　the　eyes　of　a　lynx。　It　is
not　the　lip　of　one　I　love　that　drinks　my　tears　and　kisses　them；　my
burning　eyes　are　cooled　with　water；　and　not　with　tender　lips。　It　is　my
soul　that　acts　a　part；　and　that　perhaps　is　why　I　am　dying！　I　lock　up
my　griefs　with　so　much　care　that　nothing　is　to　be　seen　of　it；　it　must
eat　into　something；　and　it　has　attacked　my　life。

〃　'I　said　to　the　doctors；　who　discovered　my　secret；　〃Make　me　die　of
some　plausible　complaint；　or　I　shall　drag　my　husband　with　me。〃

〃　'So　it　is　quite　understood　by　M。　Desplein；　Bianchon；　and　myself　that
I　am　dying　of　the　softening　of　some　bone　which　science　has　fully
described。　Octave　believes　that　I　adore　him；　do　you　understand？　So　I
am　afraid　lest　he　should　follow　me。　I　now　write　to　beg　you　in　that
case　to　be　the　little　Count's　guardian。　You　will　find　with　this　a
codicil　in　which　I　have　expressed　my　wish；　but　do　not　produce　it
excepting　in　case　of　need；　for　perhaps　I　am　fatuously　vain。　My
devotion　may　perhaps　leave　Octave　inconsolable　but　willing　to　live。
Poor　Octave！　I　wish　him　a　better　wife　than　I　am；　for　he　deserves　to　be
well　loved。

〃　'Since　my　spiritual　spy　is　married；　I　bid　him　remember　what　the
florist　of　the　Rue　Saint…Maur　hereby　bequeaths　to　him　as　a　lesson：　May
your　wife　soon　be　a　mother！　Fling　her　into　the　vulgarest　materialism
of　household　life；　hinder　her　from　cherishing　in　her　heart　the
mysterious　flower　of　the　Idealof　that　heavenly　perfection　in　which　I
believed；　that　enchanted　blossom　with　glorious　colors；　and　whose
perfume　disgusts　us　with　reality。　I　am　a　Saint…Theresa　who　has　not
been　suffered　to　live　on　ecstasy　in　the　depths　of　a　convent；　with　the
Holy　Infant；　and　a　spotless　winged　angel　to　come　and　go　as　she　wished。

〃　'You　saw　me　happy　among　my　beloved　flowers。　I　did　not　tell　you　all：
I　saw　love　budding　under　your　affected　madness；　and　I　concealed　from
you　my　thoughts；　my　poetry；　I　did　not　admit　you　to　my　kingdom　of
beauty。　Well；　well；　you　will　love　my　child　for　love　of　me　if　he　should
one　day　lose　his　poor　father。　Keep　my　secrets　as　the　grave　will　keep
them。　Do　not　mourn　for　me；　I